100 Peeling Back the Layers to Reconstruct the Details

Du Ruo said nothing. He simply pulled on his rubber gloves and leaned in for a closer look.

First was the Chest Center point. There, as though an eight had been stamped into the flesh, the mark had turned a purplish black.

“The wound here is very strange. It was struck hard, but not fatally. We searched for a long time and still couldn’t find any tool that would leave a mark like this. It’s a little like being hit by a pair of steel bars, but a blow with that kind of force would definitely tear the skin. This one didn’t.”

The forensic examiner was explaining at the side. At the scene, only the young female officer stood a little farther away; Captain Huang and Du Ruo were close in.

“Finger strike,” Du Ruo said lightly, then moved on to inspect the other injuries on the corpse.

“Huh?”

The examiner did not understand and asked again. Captain Huang, too, was drawn in by Du Ruo’s words and looked over, waiting for an explanation.

“This was done with the fingers. The Chest Center point is an important pressure point in martial practice, a key node on the Conception Vessel. A strike here usually leaves the opponent unable to gather their breath or energy, which makes the next attack much easier. So if a martial artist gets the chance, they usually won’t pass up the opportunity to hit this point.”

Du Ruo pointed again at the dark eight-shaped mark on the dead man’s chest and explained it to the others.

“Then just how much force, or how hard would those fingers have to be, to cause this kind of injury?” The examiner sounded incredulous, letting out a quiet gasp. He was not questioning Du Ruo. Anyone invited here to assist had to stand behind their words; they could not just say things casually.

“There are many ways to strike with the fingers. Stabbing with your fingertips is quite difficult, but striking with the knuckles while the fingers are bent can produce the same injury.”

As he spoke, Du Ruo even demonstrated with his hands to show them the corresponding shape.

“Can you tell what style of martial arts it was?” Captain Huang asked. “Don’t all martial artists belong to schools or lineages?”

He had seized the heart of the matter. As a detective, the first thing he thought of was narrowing down the suspect pool.

“Not from this alone. Modern martial arts borrow from one another in many ways, and their methods have also become increasingly modernized—that is, efficient and direct. Sometimes it’s even impossible to tell modern combat sports from traditional martial arts anymore.

“But to cause injuries like this, the killer was either skilled in finger techniques or palm techniques, because someone who specializes in punching normally wouldn’t leave marks like these. Also, overseas combat systems are not good at striking pressure points. Even people who have learned traditional kung fu are not usually so fixated on hitting points like this; it becomes muscle memory. So this should have been done by someone from China.”

Du Ruo’s explanation was orderly and well-grounded, not the least bit speculative. The three standing nearby all nodded as if they half understood, and even the female officer edged a little closer.

“Finger techniques, palm techniques—so you’re saying it was definitely done by a martial artist?”

Captain Huang immediately grasped the core of the issue. As a homicide detective, he was already thinking about identifying the killer’s type.

“Yes. But we’ll need to keep looking. This man seems to have trained; his muscle lines are rather hard. That’s typical of southern coastal martial arts.”

Du Ruo looked the body over again. The muscles were well developed, with not much excess flesh.

“You can tell that too?”

The one who asked was the female officer. After hearing Du Ruo’s explanation, she looked over the corpse again and again, but all she could see was a broad, powerfully built frame. Nothing else stood out.

“Yes. Martial arts are divided into internal styles, external styles, Emei styles, and southern styles, and each has its own distinctive traits.

“When internal and external styles are trained properly, the muscle lines tend to be softer. Internal boxing often leaves almost no obvious trace of training, while external boxing shows the muscles more clearly; some areas can even be more developed than average, but they still look supple.

“Emei styles are more nimble and also have certain demands on physique. If someone is too heavily built, they can’t really train it.

“Only southern styles produce obvious muscles, firm lines, and a harder frame. This man is one of those—but his skills probably weren’t deep enough, or he would not have been so easily struck in the Chest Center point.”

Du Ruo offered a little more explanation. In truth, those external markers were not nearly as clear nowadays; many people trained both internal and external methods, and were proficient in both northern and southern schools. But such mastery was not something ordinary people could achieve, so most distinctions were still recognizable.

“Tsk…”

The female officer clicked her tongue, looking as though she had learned something new. She studied the corpse again, and even stole a glance at Du Ruo’s build, perhaps mentally comparing it with what he had just described.

“Look at his forearms, wrists, elbows, and shoulders. Every joint has purple bruising. Those were caused by joint locks. The opponent was very strong, and the locking technique was very skilled, so the killer should be an expert in clawing and gripping techniques.

“If a palm had been used, there usually wouldn’t be such obvious locking marks on the wrists and elbows. Instead, the bruising would appear on the waist, shoulders, or even the legs.”

By this point, Du Ruo already had a general idea in mind.

“And these spots?” The examiner pointed to several marks on the body. They varied in size; some were no bigger than a coin, some formed a line, and others clustered into patches. They were also purple-black, indicating severe vascular damage beneath the skin.

“These spots were caused by sealing techniques. This one was struck at the armpit point with a phoenix-eye fist. After the blow, the arm would temporarily lose strength, which is why there’s only one dark spot.”

Du Ruo pointed to the dead man’s armpit, where a distinct coin-sized purple-black mark could be seen.

“This one was kicked with a shoe to the Inner Gate point. A strike there causes intense pain, numbness through the whole leg, and can even make someone unable to stand.”

Du Ruo indicated the middle of the inner thigh, up toward the knee, where a small patch of dark bruising lay.

“And here, the three points of Heavenly Spring, Heavenly Mansion, and Neighboring White were struck together and merged into one area. That was done with a hard clawing grip of the fingers. Once someone’s arm is seized like that, the hand can no longer make a fist.”

He pointed to the biceps of the other arm, where four dark-purple spots had joined into a single patch.

At this point, only the examiner was still deep in thought. Captain Huang and the female officer were already stunned speechless. They looked at Du Ruo, then at the corpse, unable to say a word. They were completely shaken. But Du Ruo had not finished. Ignoring their astonishment, he continued:

“So, it should have gone like this. Captain Huang, for the moment I’m the killer. The killer would have been standing face-to-face with the deceased, perhaps in conversation, and then suddenly struck. Two fingers shot out and hit the deceased in the Chest Center point—fast and ruthless.”

Du Ruo walked up in front of Captain Huang, greeted him briefly, and then thrust out two fingers of his right hand, stabbing at Huang’s Chest Center point. Truly, it was as fast and as ruthless as he had said; before Huang could react, the fingers had already touched his chest. Du Ruo’s control of force was excellent, though: he demonstrated the speed without injuring Huang.

“The deceased was probably practicing a style like Choy Li Fut boxing. After the Chest Center point was struck, he would almost instinctively swing his right arm back in a hammering motion to hit the killer’s temple, only to have the killer’s left hand strike his armpit with a phoenix-eye fist.”

Du Ruo lifted Captain Huang’s arm and used it to strike toward his own temple, then drove a phoenix-eye fist into the other man’s armpit.

“The deceased’s left hand would likely have tried to seize the killer’s arm, but the killer would already have locked three of the arm’s pressure points. And that would not have been the end of it. After seizing the points, both claws would slide downward, the grappling hand would clamp onto both wrists and press down, forcing the deceased to drop to his knees.

“Then the killer would kick the Inner Gate point, forcing the deceased to lunge forward. But with both wrists controlled, the whole body would be hanging almost in midair. From there, the killer would coil the wrists and press both arms downward. Finally, the finishing blow should have landed on the neck or the back, and that is what killed him.”

The movements Du Ruo described continued without pause in his hands. He was now working them out on Captain Huang. His motions grew larger, and all of them were joint-locking techniques. Though Huang was grimacing with pain, he remained stoic and did not make a sound. But when Du Ruo finished, Huang was already lying face-down on the floor, both arms limp at his sides. Even though his arms had not been broken by the locks, they still felt awful, and were trembling.

At last Du Ruo went to the corpse’s side, supported the back of the head with one hand, and pointed to a faint purple mark on the back, indicating that the fatal blow had landed there.

“So the deceased’s posture should have been exactly like Captain Huang is now, lying face-down. The fatal point was the back of the neck, and the cause of death was sudden cessation of blood flow throughout the body—in other words, myocardial infarction. All right, Captain Huang, you can get up now. Sorry about that. I had to use a bit more force to recreate it properly.”

After speaking, Du Ruo helped Huang to his feet and offered an apology, along with an explanation.

“Damn… that’s incredible. This posture is almost exactly the same as when the victim was found—face down like this.”

Captain Huang rose and rubbed his arm, even letting out a curse under his breath. One could tell just how shocked he was.

“But how could being struck in that spot possibly cause a heart attack?”

The examiner studied the body for a long while, but could not see anything special about the injured area. In the end he gave up overthinking it and asked directly.

“In pressure-point work, there is something called the crest of the tide, so…”

Du Ruo explained the concept of the crest in pressure-point striking, and also described the corresponding principles from traditional Chinese medicine.

“I think I understand what you mean by the crest of the tide. When I was still a student, two classmates were fooling around. Then one of them suddenly turned pale, collapsed to the floor, and his breathing became very weak. Later, when we asked about it, the one who had been playing with him said he had only touched him lightly and hadn’t used any force at all, yet he ended up like that. If I’m following you, was he just accidentally hit on the crest?”

The female officer suddenly seemed to remember something and exclaimed aloud, her voice rising.

“Yes, exactly. That is what happens when the crest is struck. If the timing is right and the blow lands true, then with only a little force it can kill. Usually the blood stops circulating, the heart goes into arrest, and breathing slows down, which is why the face turns bluish.”

Du Ruo summarized neatly, peeling the whole matter open strand by strand.

“Then do you know what style this is, or where else someone might be able to use it?”

What Captain Huang cared about most was solving the case. As long as they could narrow down the likely type of suspect, they would have a direction; once that happened, the case would not be hard to crack.

“Yes. I actually do know. There are many pressure-point methods in the world, but very few styles combine grappling and sealing techniques…”